


Five Times Crowley's Serpentine Nature Showed

by ebullience24



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Adam Young Ships Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Anathema Device Ships Aziraphale/Crowley, Antichrist Adam Young (Good Omens), Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Canon Compliant, Caring Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Kids (Good Omens), Crowley Uses A Cane, Crowley Whump (Good Omens), Crowley can talk to other snakes, Crowley has scales, Crowley is COLD, Crowley is Good With Kids (Good Omens), Crowley is cold-blooded, Crowley's Fall, Crowley's Hiss, Crowley's Tongue (Good Omens), Crowley's eyes, Crowley-centric, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), Five Plus One Things, Gen, Godparents Aziraphale and Crowley (Good Omens), Minor Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Snake Crowley (Good Omens), Worried Aziraphale (Good Omens), airforce gang, because that's my canon, brumating, but you knew that, crowley is light sensitive, everyone ships Aziraphale and Crowley, i just really love crowley, ish, ngk, someone darn it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-19
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:42:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 7,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22318813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ebullience24/pseuds/ebullience24
Summary: Five Times Crowley's Serpentine Nature Showed, featuring the whole airforce gang.1. Eyes.2. Cold-blooded.3. Crowley can talk to other snakes.4. Crowley has chronic pain.5. Brumating
Relationships: Anathema Device/Newton Pulsifer, Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 71
Kudos: 692





	1. Eyes

Visiting everyone down in Tadfield had become something of a weekly tradition.

Since they all contributed in stopping the end of the world eight months ago, they had become rather close-knit. Aziraphale hadn’t wanted to lose touch with anyone and so he had proposed the idea of having a weekly meet up at Jasmine Cottage - and Anathema and Newt had been ready to accept hosting responsibilities, considering they hosted sleepovers with The Them often anyway. 

And so it was settled. Crowley would drive both himself and Aziraphale down to Tadfield on a Saturday morning (sometimes they would bring lovely vintage wines. Sometimes Crowley would bring a vintage wine and not tell anyone.) to see The Them and Anathema and Newt. And Dog, who Adam had insisted on being included. For the past eight months, that was how it had gone. They would see each other weekly, catch up, and then they’d be off again to their own respective busy lives. (Aziraphale and Anathema kept frequent contact since the witch had gotten him addicted to _Words with Friends.)_

So, on a bright and cloudless day in the middle of January, both an angel and a demon traveled down to Tadfield. The sky was blue and cloudless, but the wind was bitter and sharp. The sun shone relentlessly - more so without the usual cloud coverage that came with the typical English skies - and Crowley didn’t have a problem with this. He didn’t have a problem with it at all. _Him,_ having a problem with something? Nope. Not possible. He didn’t have a problem _at all_ and if Aziraphale asked him if something was wrong one more time- 

“Bloody hell,” Crowley swore under his breath as sunlight reflected off of the cars in front and hit his eye line. It was so _bright_ out. Brighter than how it had been in the height of summer. Even his glasses didn’t offer much help. 

Why did metal have to be so _bloody reflective?_

From the passenger seat, Aziraphale shifted to look at Crowley. “What’s happening?” He asked, worry underlying his words. 

Crowley shook his head and tried squinting so save some of his eyesight- Nope, that didn’t work. He jerked the steering wheel abruptly to the left to avoid colliding with another car and Aziraphale gripped the dash board. “Nothing, angel. S’ fine.”

Aziraphale released his grip on the dash board and leaned back in his seat. “Quite clearly it’s not.”

The demon muttered something under his breath. “What was that?” Aziraphale asked, an eyebrow raised. 

Sighing, Crowley clutched the wheel of his Bentley tighter. _You’re my car,_ he thought sourly. _Why can’t you learn to drive yourself?_ Perhaps he should invest in some tinted windows… And if tinted windscreens were against the law then, well, he wasn’t _supposed_ to follow the law. “It’s bright out!” He exclaimed, louder than he had meant to. “It…” Hurts? Annoys him? Makes it so hard to see that he’s been considering using a demonic miracle to avoid an accidental crash for the better half of twenty minutes? “I can’t- Ngk.”

“Oh,” Aziraphale softened, realizing what Crowley meant without Crowley needing to say it out loud. “My dear, why didn’t you say something sooner?” 

_Because there’s no way to fix it,_ Crowley thought. _Because my eyes are light sensitive and there’s no way to fix it because this is one of Her punishments._ Instead of saying all of this, however, Crowley merely shrugged. 

Aziraphale was silent for a moment and Crowley mentally scolded himself for making a big deal out of it in the first place. He had worried the angel and made the car ride awkward when they should be listening to Queen in the comfortable silence that came with knowing someone more over six thousand years. _Just drive to Tadfield and don’t mention it again._

After a few more tense, uncomfortable (at least on Crowley's behalf) minutes of silence, Aziraphale hummed and snapped his fingers. Instantly, the reflective sunlight that had been piercing Crowley’s eyes from the metal of the car in front of them dulled. Crowley sighed in relief and loosened his grip on the steering wheel. “I can’t do much more than that without Head Office knowing,” Aziraphale said gently. “But how’s that?”

“Perfect,” Crowley smiled. “Thanks, angel.”

* * *

“Hello, hello,” Anathema said as she opened the door to Jasmine Cottage for Aziraphale and Crowley. “Long time no see.”

“It’s been a week,” Crowley said from where he leaned against the porch wall. 

Aziraphale smiled at her and Anathema opened her arms for a hug. “It’s good to see you.”

Anathema stepped back and lowered her voice slightly. “Actually, you’re just in time to settle something. C’mon, I’ll show you.”

They walked into the hallway of Jasmine Cottage, the door clicking shut behind them. Anathema led them into the living room where Newt and The Them were sat on the floor and chatting. Anathema cleared her throat from the doorway and they all looked up. “Okay, we’re doing this. Crowley, Aziraphale, what color is Newt’s shirt?”

“It’s green!” Adam butted in. “Clearly.”

“No,” Pepper said sharply. “It’s navy. I can’t believe you don’t see it.”

“Actually,” Newt said warily, “the tag said it was gray.”

Wensleydale shrugged. “If the tag said it was gray, then it must be gray. The tag wouldn’t lie.”

“I agree with Pepper,” Anathema smiled. “That’s definitely navy.”

Aziraphale stepped into the living room and tilted his head. Crowley threw himself onto an armchair. “It looks black to me,” the angel said with a frown. “Did anyone else get black?” 

Brian raised his hand. “I’d say it’s either a dark gray or a black. Maybe a maroon?” 

“Crowley,” Adam turned to face the demon. “What do you think it is?”

“Uhh,” Crowley stuttered. “Probably not the wisest idea to ask me.”

“Why’s that?” Adam asked. 

Crowley lifted his glasses slightly to show his slitted eyes. “Because I’m colorblind and can only see in heat waves.”

“That’s so cool,” Brian said quietly. “You’d never accidentally eat cold food again.”

At the same time, Pepper leaned forward. “But if you had to guess.”

“If I _had_ to guess,” Crowley trailed off for a brief moment for suspense purposes. “If I had to guess, then I’d agree that it’s navy.”

Anathema cheered. “See, I was right! Right. Now that’s over. Drinks anyone?”

* * *

“Winner takes all,” Brian said from the sidelines. “It’s Hell versus Hell. Demon against Antichrist. You ready?”

“Obviously.”

“I’m so going to win this. I’ve been having staring contests with Dog since I got him,” Adam smiled. “And then I get to decide what cake we get for next time.”

“Three, two, one. Go!” 

It was Newt’s idea to have a staring competition because Jasmine Cottage didn’t have the room for games that involved a lot of action and there was nothing as intense and thrilling as a staring contest. The final competition was against Crowley and Adam - and what everyone had failed to realize (except for maybe Aziraphale) was that Crowley didn’t actually have eyelids. He could win _easily._

“You guys can talk, you know,” Adam said without removing his eyes from Crowley’s. “The silence is weird.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Wensleydale whispered. “I’m so engrossed.”

“I feel like the people who wear glasses were at a disadvantage,” Anathema frowned. “Newt, Wensleydale, shall we take ours off and see who wins then?” 

“You could have just taken them off the first time,” Pepper said.

“I did,” Crowley nodded his head over to Aziraphale, who was holding Crowley’s glasses as if they were made from glass or fine bone china. 

“Yeah,” Anathema pulled a face, “but you don’t actually need your glasses to _see.”_

Adam’s eyes had gotten red. “I’m going to blind myself,” he grimaced. 

“Don’t blind yourself,” Crowley raised his eyebrows. “Stop.”

“I want to win.”

“You’ll hurt yourself.”

His eyes started to brim with tears. Crowley said to Brian, who was in control of the stopwatch; “Time?”

“Fifty-four seconds and counting. Fifty-five, fifty-six-”

Crowley softened his expression to Adam. “Do you want to stop? You can still pick the cake for next week.”

“Red velvet?” 

“Whatever you want.”

Adam yelled “Time!” and shook his head, blinking furiously. 

Crowley smiled and leaned back in his chair, taking his glasses from Aziraphale’s outstretched hand and placing them back on his face. “How did you do that?” Adam asked, tears running down his face. 

He straightened his glasses and grinned. “You forget that I’m the Serpent of Eden. I don’t have to blink like you do.”


	2. Cold-Blooded

“Why are we here again?” Crowley grumbled, shifting his weight from foot to foot to try to stop the cold from seeping into his bones more so than it already had. 

The leaves of Hogback Wood crunched under the feet of an angel, a demon, a witch and a witch hunter, and The Them. Ice and frost coated the leaves, the trees had been robbed of their colors, and the sky was a gloomy gray that might mean a downpour later on. It was nearing the end of January, and Crowley was walking through a forest trying not to get puddle water on his snake skin boots instead of drinking steadily in the backroom of Aziraphale’s bookshop with a fire going like he was supposed to be. 

“It’s a walk,” Pepper said over her shoulder from where she led the way with Adam beside her up front. “It’s supposed to be good for you.”

“Doesn’t feel like it’s good for me,” Crowley mumbled and wrapped his arms around his torso. He could feel the warmth being _leeched_ out of him. He could feel the cold replacing it, wrapping itself around his bones like a vice. 

“At school, my teacher said that walking can be as efficient as running depending on how long you do it for. Good for the heart, she said,” Wensleydale had drifted to the back where he walked alongside Newt. He’d been spewing random facts, at even more random intervals, since they had started the walk forty minutes ago. 

Brian frowned. He was walking next to Aziraphale and was carrying a big stick that probably wasn’t suitable to be carried by a clumsy eleven year old boy who had a penchant for falling over and injuring himself, but Crowley was too cold to say anything. He kept an eye on the boy though, just in case. “I don’t think that’s right. Running is a lot harder than walking.”

“If you’re walking for longer than you ran,” Anathema shrugged, “then I don’t see why not.”

Aziraphale beamed. There was heat radiating from him, as there always was, and Crowley was nearly one hundred percent sure that it was the only thing that had stopped him from freezing to death by now...Freezing to discorporation? He moved slightly closer to the angel and bowed his head to avoid anyone commenting on it. “I prefer walking to running. You can take in the views much better.”

“I like running,” Adam said loudly to be heard over the wind. “Sometimes I race with Dog. I think I got told off for doing that last time, though. Mum says that Dog can run off but I don’t think so. He knows what he’s doing.”

“I don’t think I like either,” Newt said from behind Crowley and Aziraphale. “Sometimes I watch those programmes of videoed walks through the mountains.”

Crowley tuned out and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. He gritted his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering and wrapped his arms tighter around him. If he had any energy left, he was sure that he would be shivering like… Like something that shivers. _A lot_. A cold wind blew in their direction and Crowley groaned - whatever heat he had managed to conserve thus far disappearing, blown away just like that. 

“Are you alright?” Aziraphale said quietly to Crowley, his face a mask of concern. 

He trudged further up the hill (they were going up a hill now. Someone save him) and tried to nod as best he could what with his bones turning to ice. “F-Fine,” he answered, unable to keep the stutter from his words. _Damn._

Aziraphale looked to him - the kind of look that made Crowley feel like he had just said his most vulnerable thoughts. “You’re cold,” the angel said pointedly after a beat of silence. 

Crowley shook his head. He could imagine the sound of ice cracking as he did so. “I’m okay.”

There was warmth on his arms as Aziraphale began to run his hands up and down them. It would have helped, perhaps, had Crowley not been cold-blooded. Whatever warmth came from that was gone as soon as Aziraphale’s hands left. Another wind came again, fiercer than the last one, and it pierced Crowley’s skin as if it carried a thousand minuscule icicles. 

“Is that better?” Aziraphale asked, dropping his hands back down to his sides. 

Crowley couldn’t stop his teeth from chattering now, no matter how much he tried. “N-Not real… Not r-really, but th-thanks.” 

“Shall we turn back? I can’t miracle everyone back without Gabriel wanting a reason-”

From the corner of his eye, Crowley saw that Brian had climbed the high rise of a stream. Although, it wasn’t much of a stream. It was covered in mud and frost, slush and rain water gathered along its banks. He saw it happen in slow motion; Brian raised the arm that clutched the stick, lost his footing, and was about to dive head first into the stream. 

Without thinking, Crowley snapped his fingers and used the last of his energy to stop Brian from falling and, possibly, impaling himself on the giant stick he carried. 

Brian looked over, his face a mask of confusion, and Crowley felt himself fall to the ground just before everything went black.

* * *

“I don’t know why he didn’t say something sooner,” Aziraphale was saying, his words close but distant. Faraway. “We could’ve turned around.”

“Was it my fault?” Someone said something. They sounded young. “If I hadn’t fallen, would Crowley be okay?”

“It was my idea to go for a walk,” another young person said solemnly. That was definitely Adam. 

“Now, my dears, it isn’t anybody’s fault.” Aziraphale again. Crowley could sense him in the room - his angelic presence like a fire. “Crowley’s okay, he just needs to warm up. That’s all. Why don’t you go help Newton with the hot chocolates?”

There was the sound of murmuring and shuffling and then a moment or two of silence before someone else spoke; a woman this time. Anathema? “It’s not cold enough out there for Crowley to collapse like that. It’s eight degrees.”

Something soft and warm was on Crowley’s forehead. Aziraphale was running his hand through his hair. Crowley shifted. “He is a snake,” Aziraphale reminded the witch gently. “He’s cold-blooded. I imagine that eight degrees to us was like minus eight degrees to him, if not colder. And he doesn’t dress warmly to begin with.”

Anathema sighed. “I should’ve put two and two together. _Obviously_ he’s cold-blooded.”

“He doesn’t really like talking about that side of him. I only know because I found him in a similar state back in the seventeenth century. He very nearly discorporated.”

“Do you usually talk about people like they’re not in the same room as you?” Crowley croaked, shaking his head slightly as his vision came back into focus. Aziraphale was sitting directly beside him, Anathema standing by the doorway. 

Aziraphale opened his mouth to reply when Adam and The Them came running into the room at full speed. Adam flung himself onto where Crowley was laying on Anathema’s couch and The Them sat close to Aziraphale. “You’re okay?” Adam asked, his face hovering above Crowley’s. 

“Of course I’m okay,” Crowley grinned. 

Discreetly, Aziraphale slid his hand under the blankets that covered Crowley and enveloped his hand in his. Crowley squeezed to let the angel know that he really was okay. That was the thing with knowing someone for over six thousand years - you could have a conversation without ever needing to say a word. 

“You scared us!” The Antichrist hit Crowley’s shoulder incredibly gently. 

“Isn’t that what I’m meant to do?”


	3. Other Snakes

“Crowley, Crowley, Crowley!” 

The Serpent of Eden, as he was so prone to do, was lounging on the couch of Jasmine Cottage completely content. The sun was shining, dimmed by the lace curtains that had been drawn over the French doors, and the heat of it was perfectly aimed to the cozy couch that Crowley had claimed as his own since he and Aziraphale had arrived in Tadfield a few hours prior. 

Aziraphale and Anathema were in the kitchen, sorting out snacks (it was nearly always gingerbread no matter what time of the year it was. Gingerbread biscuits were the default) and talking about whatever topics came to mind. Newt was trying to do something to Dick Turpin (Crowley wasn’t sure what, exactly, but it had involved multiple google searches, a garden hose, a hammer, and quite an impressive amount of duct tape) outside, and The Them were playing in Hogback Wood for one of the last times before school restarted. 

Crowley was comfortable, content, and perfectly at ease for one of the few times in his expansive lifetime. Or, at least, he would be had it not been for the twelve year-old shaking his shoulder like a little kid trying to wake up their parents on Christmas morning. “Crowley, Crowley, Crowley!” Adam said again, louder this time. 

“We need your help,” another twelve year-old had joined in shaking his shoulder. Pepper hit him gently with her fist. “Come on!”

“You’re going to have to get up, you know,” came Aziraphale’s voice from a distance. 

With a groan, Crowley pushed himself upright and rested against the arm of the couch. The Them were grouped around him and Aziraphale was watching from the doorway, smiling. Perhaps _beaming_ was a better word. “Didn’t wanna have to,” Crowley mumbled and straightened his glasses. “What’s up?”

The Them were grabbing at his hand, trying to pull him off of the couch. “We need your help!” Pepper said again sternly. 

“It’s more of a favor, actually,” Wensleydale clarified. 

“But will you do it?” Adam asked. “Please?” 

Crowley stood from the couch and allowed himself to be dragged out of the living room. He gave Aziraphale a look as if to say _help me, these children are crazy._ The angel rose his hand and gave a little wave as he watched the four children drag the demon away. _You signed up for this when you started practically babysitting them._

The demon sighed. “Depends on what it is. I’m not going to do any summoning for you or use a Ouija Board to pull a prank on someone. Actually, no demon stuff in general. A’ight?” 

They were outside now. Crowley raised a hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the sun. The Them were leading him to Hogback Wood - he had been in Tadfield so much that he had started recognizing the way to their ‘hang out’. “It’s not got anything to do with demon stuff,” Brian was saying as he matched his pace with Crowley’s. “It’s more… snake stuff.”

Crowley raised his eye brows. That was unexpected. People tended to avoid the subject of the whole snake thing and Crowley was okay with that. He had never been entirely comfortable with the whole snake thing himself - perhaps because it was the first form he had taken after his Fall, or perhaps it was because he had been painted as a villain from the start. 

There was no middle ground after Falling. No morally gray area. Crowley had been an Angel and then he had been the Serpent of Eden; the original tempter, the reason why humanity was Like That. He and Aziraphale had carved the middle ground themselves, and it had taken six thousand years to do so. 

“Gonna change the rules,” Crowley said slowly. “I’m not going to do any dangerous snake stuff.”

“Define dangerous,” Adam grinned. 

At the same time, Wensleydale said; “It’s not dangerous at all. I think it’s rather grown-up of us.”

“Oh, really?” Crowley looked to the boy. “That’s not usually a word I would associate with you lot.”

“Please,” Pepper snorted. “We’re plenty grown-up when we want to be.”

“When it can get us stuff,” Brian shrugged. “My mum says that you’re more likely to get something if you’re grown up ‘bout it.”

“Not really as fun though, is it?” Adam pulled a face. “I’d rather be a kid whilst I still look like one. I don’t have to be grown-up about anything.”

“You all make excellent points,” Crowley nodded. They crossed over into the woods, the gravel from the pavement turning to dried mud and grass. “But I still have no idea what you’re all going on about.”

“It’s a snake,” Pepper said as she kicked a tree root. 

“Yeah, I got _that-”_

“No, no. It’s an actual snake. Over there,” the young girl pointed to a fallen tree trunk a few meters ahead of them. “We thought that you might be able to save it.”

Crowley walked over to the tree trunk and knelt down. “Save it?” 

Adam came to crouch beside the demon and nodded. “We were playing- Something responsible. Anyway, we found this snake. Wensleydale thought it was a grass snake. But it’s injured and can’t get out from the trunk so we thought who do we know who knows a bit about snakes?” The Antichrist snapped his fingers. “And here you are.”

He was tempted to point out that he knew more than a bit about snakes, but Crowley refrained. He tilted his head down to look through the fallen tree trunk and saw a small snake coiled around itself. It’s tail had gotten caught on one of the holes of the trunks. “’M not really in the healing department,” Crowley said, more to himself than anyone else. “But I’ll try.”

It wasn’t the first snake he had saved. Over the centuries, Crowley had saved more snakes than he could count. He couldn’t just ignore one if it needed his help - to him, ignoring a snake was as bad as ignoring a screaming and injured baby. 

Crowley held his hand out and allowed a few of his scales to ripple across his fingers. He hid them, usually. But his hand was hidden by the trunk and the snake would be more inclined to move if it knew that Crowley was one of its own. And The Them couldn’t see - Crowley was slightly terrified of the questions they would ask if they knew he could make certain parts of him become covered in scales. 

He wasn’t even sure if Aziraphale knew. 

The snake answered Crowley’s silent call and wound itself around the Serpent’s outstretched palm. Crowley withdrew his hand from the trunk and raised his other hand along the body of the snake, running it along the length of it. He couldn’t see anything wrong with it, but- 

_Ah._ Crowley noticed the cloudiness of its eyes and he couldn’t help but laugh slightly. “It’s okay, guys.”

“It is?” Brian was standing over Crowley’s shoulder. 

“Yeah,” Crowley placed the snake back on the trunk and let it slither off out of sight. “Its just in shed.”

“You mean, it was shedding its skin?” Pepper asked. Crowley nodded and stood from his crouched position with a wince. “Do you shed like other snakes?”

Crowley stuttered. “Uh… I’m not going to answer that one.”

Adam turned his attention away from where he had been staring after the snake and looked to the demon. “So it’ll be okay?” 

“Absolutely fine,” Crowley reassured The Them. “But it was an adder snake, so I need to know if any of you went close enough for it to have bitten you.”

“It’s poisonous?” Brian exclaimed, eyes wide. 

“Not _exactly._ It’s venomous but not nearly enough to kill you. The worst it would do is hurt like a bitch.” Aziraphale would surely scold him for swearing in front of the children but, well, it _would._

“I didn’t go near it,” Adam said. Pepper, Brian and Wensleydale all confirmed that they hadn’t gone near it, either. 

Crowley nodded, relaxing at that. At least now he wouldn’t have to get Aziraphale to heal all four of them so they wouldn’t have aching snake bites for the next few days - that would be a hard one for the angel to explain; _What were you doing,_ healing _the Anitchrist?_ “Let’s go back then,” he said and held his hands out for The Them to hold on to. “I think Anathema and Aziraphale have been baking.” 

“Gingerbread cookies again?” Wensleydale asked excitedly. 

“Think so,” Crowley answered, and they started dragging Crowley back to Jasmine Cottage so they could _get them whilst they were still hot._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you like this chapter! Please let me know what you thought - I love all of your comments! They make me happy for weeks on end :D
> 
> Also, Adder snake bites do hurt like a bitch. There's really no other word for it.
> 
> Love you all,  
> Xoxo


	4. Chronic Pain

It was a warm day in Tadfield, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. Adam still had some of his Satanic powers and the young boy had no qualms about using said powers to manipulate the weather into doing whatever he wanted it to do. 

Adam had wanted to play games with everyone in one of the many fields that surrounded the Tadfield area. Newt had pointed out that it was the middle of October and so the weather might not comply (they lived in _England_ for Someone’s sake. They had three months of heat and nine months of total downpour), but Adam had been so excited to play that, when everyone arrived at the gates of said fields, the sun was shining and the wind was balmy and carried the slightest scent of a barbecue. 

Because, of course, at the slightest chance of heat, the population of England would whip out the barbecues and two-for-one meat selections. 

The Them had hoped over the gate and were racing each other to the middle of the field (Wensleydale had been yelling where the middle was, exactly, the whole time. Adam had stopped first, claiming that the part he was on was the middle and that the rest of the Them had gone too far so, therefore, he was the winner). Anathema unlatched the gate and pushed it open, walking through it to join the children with Newt following behind her. 

“You know,” She said mischievously, a glint in her eyes, “this is a kissing gate.”

“Quite right,” Aziraphale smiled as he walked through. “I believe they were originally made for the farmers. Wasn’t that right, Crowley?” 

Crowley shook his head and closed the gate behind him with the hook of his cane before drawing it back to him and resting his weight on it. “Innuendos, angel.”

Aziraphale looked to Anathema, his eyes bright with shock. “Oh, well, I-” 

“Come on!” Adam yelled from across the field. “We’re all ready over here.”

“Just what games were you thinking of playing?” Newt asked. “Because I only know how to play a few.”

“Come on,” Anathema reached up to pat her boyfriend on the shoulder. “I’’ll teach you.”

Once they had all gathered in the middle of the field, Adam held up a ball and a bat with a grin. “It’s called Viking Long Ball. We’ll split into two separate teams, one that hits the ball and the other that tries to catch the ball, and all you have to do is hit the ball with the bat and run to the end of the field before someone catches the ball. The people on the other team will be spread out to catch it and the team who has the least amount of catches wins, got it?”

“Didn’t we play this in school?” Brian frowned. 

“I don’t think this is how we play it in school,” Pepper crossed her arms over her chest. “It just sounds like baseball to me.”

“Well,” Adam drawed out the word, “it _is_ different to how we play it in school because we got it banned from school. Remember? We almost took out the window.”

 _“You_ almost took out the window,” Wensleydale corrected. “I was helping pack away.”

“Is it called Viking Long Ball because the Vikings used to play it?” Brian wondered aloud. 

Everyone turned to face the angel and the demon. Aziraphale shook his head. “I’m afraid I didn’t have much to do with the Vikings.”

“Neither,” Crowley said. “Too cold.”

“Does everyone get it though?” Adam asked the group, moving to balance the ball on the tip of his finger. Everyone agreed that yes, they… _relatively_ understood the rules. Adam started to separate everyone into teams of four, but he paused when he got to Crowley.

“Uh,” Crowley looked down at his cane and lifted it slightly to make a point. “Might ‘ve to sit this one out.”

The cane wasn’t something that Crowley used very often. After they had gone out of style (something he would forever be annoyed about), canes had become somewhat stigmatized. And everyday life wasn’t exactly accommodating for them. When he went into shops on the days he used his cane, he would be followed around the whole time by a member of staff to make sure he wouldn’t knock anything over. 

And he loathed the looks of sympathy that he got when he used it. The cane was sleek and black and polished within an inch of its life. The handle was a metal snake that slithered halfway down the length of the cane, and it always remained a few degrees warmer than what should have been possible. Crowley didn’t see why he couldn’t miracle the handle of his cane into being a handwarmer, and so he had done it. Two birds. 

It was reserved for the days where Crowley struggled to get out of bed, where he would spend the next century in his apartment if he didn’t have to go out. It was reserved for the days where the pain was bad enough that it was hard to focus on anything else, when he was too hot or too cold or both at the same time. When he felt like someone had taken a knife to his bones and was carving their name onto them, or when someone was trying to compress his spine so it would fit into the form he was cursed to take. 

Crowley had dealt with pain for six thousand years. He still had days where it was so bad it took his unneeded breath away. He was still learning how to cope with it, and how to stay out of things that would make it worse. 

Adam had been looking forward to today. That was the reason why Crowley had dragged himself out of bed in the first place, why he had gritted his teeth the entire ride down to Tadfield in the Bentley (his hands had spasmed around the steering wheel for the most part of the journey, his legs and spine cramping at staying in the same position for too long). 

Aziraphale had reminded him the whole way down that Adam wouldn’t be upset about Crowley not being able to partake in the games as much as he usually could and that nobody would look down on him for it. Crowley had heard his words but they hadn’t really registered - not over the mantra that was repeating itself over and over in his head; _you’re not good enough, you’re going to upset everyone, you should be able to do this._ Why _can’t you do this?_

“You could leave the cane over there,” Adam nodded to the fence that surrounded the field. 

Crowley tightened his grip on the handle. Everybody was looking at him. He tried to make it seem like he was holding onto the cane nonchalantly and that it wasn’t the only thing keeping him upright. His wrist gave a slight throb at the clench he had over his cane. Crowley ignored it. “Can’t.” 

“Why not?” 

Children were fundamentally curious. Crowley knew this and had been witness to this curiosity since… Well, since Eden. Once Adam and Eve had their first child. Even Warlock had been curious and Crowley had been more than happy to oblige him in every simple curiosity the young boy had. 

That didn’t make answering their questions any easier. 

Aziraphale looked to Crowley softly. Crowley had to turn away, lest he say or do something he’d regret later on. Sometimes he doubted whether or not he deserved the angel’s affection - whether he deserved anything at all. 

When he had showed up in Tadfield that morning, carrying a cane and leaning on it heavily, nobody had mentioned anything. Anathema had looked at it, looked at him, had nodded silently. But that was about it. Perhaps everyone took it as another one of Crowley’s dramatic fashion choices. Either way, nobody had asked and so Crowley hadn’t felt the need to answer. 

But now, he would have to explain to everyone why he had a cane in the first place. Why he walked the way he did, why he sprawled in chairs instead of sitting in them like a normal person. He would have to explain how that him sometimes choosing to stay back and watch certain activities wasn’t just aloofness, but was actually him not being able to do the activity. 

“Hurts,” Crowley said after a while and instantly looked down to avoid the looks he would get. “Uh, sometimes. Sometimes, things hurt. Jus’ another thing from Falling. ‘S why I got this,” he lifted the cane slightly. “Helps.”

Crowley braced himself for the sympathy, the pity. He scolded himself for saying anything, for not just sucking it up and playing the games no matter how much it hurt. He scolded himself for changing things he hadn’t wanted to change, and he scolded himself because now his relationship with everyone from the airfield would be divided into two parts: before he told them and after he told them. 

But, instead of all of that, Adam just shrugged. “Okay. Well, then we’re left with uneven teams so-”

“I don’t mind being the scorer!” Wensleydale shot his hand up. “I’ll watch with Crowley and make sure everyone is following the rules and I’ll mark down the points.”

“That works.”

Crowley opened his mouth to object that Wensleydale had wanted to play and that he should if he wanted to, but Wensledyale interrupted. “Please can I? I’m not the biggest fan of sports games.” 

“Sure,” the demon smiled. Wensleydale was being sincere and he genuinely looked downright terrified at the notion of having to play sports. As everyone was being put into teams, Crowley turned and miracled two chairs as well as a notebook and pen for Wensleydale. 

And so they played the game with Crowley and Wensleydale acting as spectators, and everything was just as it had been. 

But, if anyone were to look, there was a spare cane in the guest room of Jasmine Cottage. Just in case Crowley forgot to bring his on the days where he stayed over with Aziraphale. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Viking Long Ball is actually a game played in English Primary schools. I used to play it before it did get banned because someone did accidentally smash a window. 
> 
> I hope you like this chapter! Thank you so much for commenting, kudosing, subscribing, bookmarking, and reading :D Let me know what you thought! 
> 
> Love you all,  
> Xoxo
> 
> P.S. The next chapter is the last one! First finished fic, here I come!


	5. Brumation

It started off slow.

Crowley had started eating - not extreme amounts but enough for Aziraphale to make a note of it. He had never eaten much to begin with; whenever they went to restaurants or, on the rare occasion that they cooked for each other, Crowley would always drink more than he ate. He usually pushed his plate over to Aziraphale and ordered more wine. 

Now, though, the demon was eating toast at lunch and joining Aziraphale for dinner properly, and he was even snacking on those peanut butter cookies that Aziraphale had bought a few weeks ago and completely forgotten about. He didn’t mention nor comment on his increased appetite. He had acted as if everything was normal. Aziraphale didn’t want to bring it up if Crowley didn’t - he didn’t want to act like Crowley eating food wasn’t normal. 

Neither of them had mentioned it, or acted on it. But Aziraphale made sure that he always had a pack of those peanut butter cookies in the cupboards of his backroom. 

“Are you alright, my dear?” Aziraphale asked, looking over the pages of his book to watch as Crowley shifted on the couch again for the third time in the last twenty minutes. 

He had also become very lethargic. Crowley had always prone to sleeping and indulging in lazy habits. He was just as comfortable spending the whole day sprawled on the couch doing nothing as Aziraphale was exploring little, unknown restaurants and coffee houses in different towns and cities. Aziraphale was slightly worried, though, about how languid he was becoming. 

Was it some form of illness? Did it have anything to do with them averting the Apocalypse? Was it a punishment from Hell - a trick? Aziraphale had seen Hell for the brief moments he had feigned as Crowley to survive the Holy Water Trial. He wasn’t sure exactly how far they would go in harming one of their own, but he could imagine it was pretty far.

Crowley hummed in agreement. Aziraphale wished he would take the glasses off when it was just the two of them so he could see exactly what the demon was thinking or feeling, but they remained glued to Crowley’s face like always. No matter how many times Aziraphale explained that he never had to hide who he was in front of him, he wore the glasses most of the time. 

Aziraphale, not wanting to push it, turned back to his book. After a few moments, he glanced to the clock that hung just left of the couch. “What time did everyone say they were going to arrive?” 

From were he was on the couch, Crowley turned his head to the clock on the wall. “Eh… Two, I think.” He flopped back down. “Gives us a few hours of quiet.”

“They might be more quiet if you didn’t constantly tempt them into having screaming matches,” Aziraphale said wryly. 

Crowley shrugged. “’S fun.”

Aziraphale resisted the urge to roll his eyes and settled his gaze back onto the pages of his book, patiently waiting for everyone from the airbase to show up. 

* * *

There was a bell built into the door to Aziraphale’s bookshop. 

The bell was hardly ever used and its golden metal had become burnished and grimy over the years. It had only been used once and that was by Crowley who had had his arms full with everything he had stolen from some retail supplier (Aziraphale really couldn’t remember what it was, exactly) and hadn’t been able to open the door as usual or raise a hand to knock. 

But the bell was ringing now. Incessantly. Aziraphale had jumped out of whatever reverie his book had put him in and, for the first few seconds, had stared into nothingness as he wondered what, in _Hell,_ that dreadful noise was. Crowley hadn’t moved once and Aziraphale would think he had fallen asleep were it not for the constant movement of his snake skin booted foot.

Closing his book and gently placing it on the side, Aziraphale stood from his arm chair to get the door. As soon as he opened it, four young children ran inside followed by a witch and a witchfinder. The bell stopped ringing. 

Usually, it would be Crowley and Aziraphale that went down to Tadfield. But The Them had wanted a change of scenery because, apparently, it was boring to keep seeing the same people in the same places. Aziraphale had offered to be the host and he had spent the better half of yesterday baking everything from lemon loafs to blueberry muffins and cheese scones. 

It had taken a few miracles to get it exactly right, but that was besides the point.

“I wasn’t expecting you to use the bell,” Aziraphale said as he shut the door. “Nobody ever really uses it.”

“They should!” Brian exclaimed. “It’s well fun.”

Aziraphale frowned at the boy’s strange choice of phrase but refrained from saying anything. The Them, instead of taking their usual places by throwing themselves on the floor, started walking around the bookshop and marveling over the age of them. “Be careful!” Aziraphale couldn’t help but call after them. “They’re all very delicate.”

Anathema and Newt hung back. “Thanks for this,” the witch said quietly. 

“Not a problem, my dear,” Aziraphale smiled gently. “We’re more than happy to have you.”

The angel turned to the couch and glared playfully at Crowley, who still hadn’t moved even though he was clearly awake. Aziraphale huffed. “Come on, Crowley. Help me in the kitchen so we can start putting those, um… What is it you call them? Nibbles? Let’s put them out.”

Crowley started, jumping slightly. He lowered his glasses and frowned upon seeing Anathema and Aziraphale staring at him. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

The demon begun pushing himself up. “Yeah, no. Hi. I mean,” he released a breath, “you’re not supposed to be coming until two.”

“It is two.”

Crowley, standing now, turned around to look at the clock, which read two. “Oh.”

Aziraphale stepped forward and encircled his fingers around Crowley’s wrist. He was worried now - enough for it to warrant a… private conversation as they were preparing the nibbles. 

Once the door was shut on them in the background, Crowley slumped against the wall and pushed his glasses up to rub at his eyes. Aziraphale’s heart softened at the sight. He turned to the food that was laid out on the low tables, wrapped in clingfilm (one of Crowley’s finer inventions, Aziraphale had to admit. It had taken longer to get the clingfilm to work than it had to cook everything), and begun peeling it all off so it was ready to serve. There was no reason why they couldn’t talk whilst they worked. “What’s wrong?” Aziraphale asked quietly. “Because I know that it’s something. You don’t normally act like this.”

He passed the clingfilm back to Crowley, who begun scrunching it into a ball and throwing it into the corner to be dealt with. He was still slumped against the wall. “’S cold out,” he said simply.

“Well, yes,” Aziraphale nodded as he fixed a patch of icing on one of the cakes by holding his hand over it. “But it’s as warm in here as it is in summer. We have all the fires going, the heating is on. Is it still too cold for you?”

“No,” Crowley sounded half-asleep. Aziraphale frowned. “It’s December. It’s cold. Winter.”

“What do y- Oh,” Aziraphale turned around to face Crowley as everything clicked into place. He would have recognized the symptoms sooner had he spent more of his time with Crowley in the past. They had never been closer than they were after Armageddon and, after six thousand years, they were still learning more about one another. 

A part of him had always wondered where Crowley went in the winter. Why their number of dinner dates and walks in the park and nights in the bookshop's backroom decreased with the change in weather. Aziraphale had always assumed that Crowley took off to the warmest place he could find to wait out the winter before returning to England come spring. But no, no, the demon didn’t do that at all. 

Brumation. Aziraphale had spent many years reading up on the behaviors of snakes and could recall that. It was a sort of hibernation, only snakes didn’t tend to sleep. Instead, rather, they became slow and tired so as to conserve energy during the cold months. 

He had never known Crowley to brumate but it all lined up. It made sense. 

Crowley hummed in agreement. Aziraphale looked past his shoulder to the door. “You should be at your apartment. They’ll understand.”

“They won’t.”

“Then I’ll make them understand,” Aziraphale said as determinedly as he could.There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that The Them and Anathema and Newt wouldn’t understand but, just to assure Crowley, he said that. “We all love and care for you, Crowley.” 

Crowley pulled a face as if he didn’t quite believe what Aziraphale was saying. Aziraphale wasn’t sure he was. “But they-”

Aziraphale looped his fingers through Crowley’s and squeezed the demon’s hands reassuringly. “My dear, if you want to go home then, please, go home. We’re all okay here and there will be other chances to see each other. I promise.”

Crowley was silent for a minute. Two. Then he moved forward and kissed the angel’s cheek, muttering a _thanks angel_ before he snapped his fingers and disappeared.

* * *

“Where’d Crowley go?” Adam asked around a mouthful of cheese scone. 

Aziraphale paused pouring tea for a second, briefly wondering how best to reply. He wasn’t sure whether or not Crowley would be comfortable with everyone knowing the ins and outs of why he had had to leave. “Um… Something came up,” Aziraphale answered with a quick nod to himself. “He said he’d be back soon but he might not get a chance to see you all today.” 

“Something to do with Hell?” Anathema looked worriedly towards the angel. 

“Ah, well, not exactly. See, our sides don’t really want much to do with us since everything that happened but it’s tying up loose ends, I should suspect.”

Anathema nodded and returned to her cup and saucer. “He’s okay though?” Newt asked this time. 

Aziraphale could imagine Crowley, back in his flat, buried under blankets and sprawled in is bed next to a heater. “Yes,” he smiled. “Crowley’s okay.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is my first finished fic and I'm so happy! You've all made me feel so welcome in this fandom and I can't thank you enough. 
> 
> I really, really hope that you liked this chapter and enjoyed this fic as a whole. Leave a comment of what you think because, well, I'm a sucker for comments. (Also I feel like my characters are so OOC and it drives me up the wall but I try!) 
> 
> Love you all,  
> Xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> I know I should stop writing new fics, but I can't so I shan't.
> 
> This fic is pre-written. It just needs to be edited so hopefully it should be finished by the end of the week! I have two other ongoing fics; one is a 60s rock AU set in LA that features a rockstar Crowley, and the other is a fic inspired by Frozen 2 which has the airforce gang in it as well and deals with Raphael Crowley. 
> 
> As always, please leave a comment below :D I really hope you liked this chapter!
> 
> Love you all,  
> Xoxo


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